A Trial Marriage. Anne Mather
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grateful to him for not despoiling her innocence, she didn’t feel that way. She ached with the longings he had aroused inside her, and when she closed her eyes she could see nothing but him—his sardonic face, the long narrow fingers, and the lean muscular strength of his body. She would have stayed with him, if he had asked her to, if he had wanted her to; she would have been a willing pupil …
She was scarcely conscious of the passage of time, but a spell must have elapsed before Della came knocking at her door. Not knowing at first who it might be, Rachel quickly switched on the television and went to answer it without any of the coolness she would have liked to have possessed. The older woman’s probing stare was denigrating.
‘You haven’t taken Minstrel for his walk,’ Della stated accusingly, and Rachel blinked.
‘Minstrel?’ she echoed dazedly.
‘Yes, Minstrel.’ Della looked at her suspiciously. ‘What’s the matter with you?’ She looked beyond her into the room. ‘Have you been asleep or something? It’s half past ten, and Minstrel hasn’t had his walk. In consequence, I’ve had to call room service to come and clean up the mess.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ Rachel shook her head helplessly. ‘I didn’t realise it was so late. I—I suppose I must have fallen asleep.’ She coloured at the deliberate lie. ‘I—I was watching television.’
‘Huh!’ Fortunately Della was too annoyed to notice the momentary hesitation. ‘Well, I don’t think it’s too much to ask that you remember a dog needs exercising!’ she declared. ‘You’re not exactly worked to death, are you?’
‘No. I’m sorry.’ Rachel really was, not least because the last thing she wanted now was a row with Della. ‘It won’t happen again.’
‘See that it doesn’t!’
Without even saying goodnight, Della marched away, every generous curve of her over-indulged body quivering with indignation.
Rachel closed the door again and breathed a deep sigh. She knew Della well enough to know that she had not heard the last of the matter. Her carelessness and lack of gratitude would be brought up on every occasion until her employer was satisfied that she was dutifully repentant.
Rachel didn’t sleep well, which was hardly surprising in the circumstances. Her over-stimulated body would not let her rest, and Della’s angry remarks had not in any way relieved her. Then a warm wind sprang up towards dawn which made the presence of the heating system almost unbearable.
At eight o’clock, she was up and dressed, and letting herself into Della’s suite she retrieved the excitable poodle for an early outing. Minstrel showed his gratitude by smothering her in wet doggy kisses, the abrasive lick of his tongue a balm to her troubled spirit.
The sea-front was almost deserted and as the tide was out, she went down on to the damp sand, letting Minstrel off his leash to chase madly after gulls and sandpipers searching among the debris of seaweed on the shoreline. The wind was mild, blowing as it did from the south-west, and she breathed deeply, feeling its riotous fingers through her hair.
Back at the hotel, Della was preparing to go down for breakfast. She viewed Minstrel’s sandy paws without enthusiasm, and said: ‘Don’t let him loose in here. The management apparently take a dim view of clearing up after animals.’
Accepting the implied criticism for what it was, Rachel pushed Minstrel into the bathroom and closed the door. ‘I have said I’m sorry, Della. About last night, I mean. I—I don’t know how I forgot the time.’
‘No, well, nor do I,’ remarked Della severely. ‘However … I’m going down for breakfast. Are you coming?’
Aware of Della’s reproving regard for her appearance, Rachel shook her head.
‘I’ll tidy up first,’ she said, and satisfied, Della left her to go downstairs.
When Rachel entered the dining room some fifteen minutes later, Della was wading through scrambled eggs and bacon. Rachel knew her employer preferred to start the meal without her. That way, Rachel’s own choice of grapefruit and toast did not jar so obviously with Della’s more liberal demands. She seated herself at the table and by the time her grapefruit had been consumed they were ready to start on the toast together.
Buttering the bread, Rachel could not prevent her thoughts from dwelling on what Jake might be doing at this moment. Ever since she got up, she had determinedly put all thoughts of him out of her mind, but now, with Della’s mouth briefly silenced by food, she was unable to halt the flow of emotion that engulfed her. She went over again what he had said in minute detail, wondering about the illness which had sent him here, wondering why she felt this increasing attraction towards a man who was, as he had said, undoubtedly too old for her.
She crunched impatiently at her toast, returning the Colonel’s impudent stare with less animosity than usual, and earning herself a wink from that quarter. She looked away irritably, annoyed that he should imagine she was interested in him, and Della caught the angry tightening of her lips.
‘What’s the matter with you this morning?’ she inquired, pouring herself more coffee. ‘Just because I had to chastise you about Minstrel, there’s no reason to get huffy.’
‘I’m not—huffy.’ Rachel reached for her own coffee cup, and then almost choked on its contents when the two women she and Jake had encountered on his landing the night before entered the dining room and approached their table.
Della watched her with evident impatience, and then smiled disarmingly as the two women stopped beside her. ‘Good morning.’ she said, and indicated Rachel’s discomfort with a casual wave of her hand. ‘These young people! They’re always in such a hurry.’
They both regarded Rachel without sympathy, and she wished she could dissolve into the floorboards at their feet. Then one of them said:
‘Did you have a good game last evening, Della? I heard that you and Colonel Jameson made quite a killing.’
Della flushed with pleasure. ‘Well—not exactly,’ she demurred modestly ‘But we did do rather well.’
‘Yes.’ The other woman’s eyes flickered over Rachel, recovered now and watching the interchange warily. ‘What a pity your companion doesn’t play cards. We might make up another table with Mr Allan.’
Rachel’s hands clenched together in her lap as Della said: ‘I didn’t know he played until the Colonel mentioned it. But he seems to keep very much to himself, doesn’t he?’
The two women exchanged a glance and Rachel waited for the explosion their revelations would ignite. But instead of exposing her, they agreed with Della, and then excused themselves to move to their own table.
Rachel breathed a silent sigh of relief, but Della’s next words were hardly reassuring:
‘I’m thinking of giving a small dinner party tomorrow evening, Rachel Just myself and the Colonel, and one or two others. I wonder if Mr Allan would care to join us?’
The rest of the morning passed in a rather one-sided discussion of whether Mr Yates would allow Della to use one of the smaller reception rooms for her dinner party. She got rather excited at the prospect of presiding over her own dinner table again, and it was as well that she was too absorbed with her own plans to notice Rachel’s white features.
During the afternoon, Rachel escaped from the hotel and made her own way to the dunes, some distance from the town itself. She would have welcomed Minstrel’s company, but for once Della had decided she would exercise the poodle, and had given Rachel permission to do what she liked for the afternoon. Perhaps she had seen Jake taking his solitary walks, Rachel speculated miserably. Perhaps Della hoped she might encounter him while she was out with the poodle.
It was colder now, and although the chill air was refreshing, Rachel was shivering by the time she boarded the bus back to town. She remained in her seat long after the bus had stopped at the harbour station and eventually the conductor came along the aisle